It is a quadrennial tradition that Real Madrid swoop for standout performers from the recent World Cup. West German left-back Paul Breitner was an early and successful example of this policy in action when he joined the club weeks after winning the World Cup on home soil in 1974. Gheorghe Hagi, Predrag Spasić, Fernando Redondo, Robert Jarni, the Brazilian Ronaldo, Fabio Cannavaro, Mesut Özil and Sami Khedira all arrived on the back of strong World Cup performances. Thibaut Courtois, the golden glove winner in Russia this summer, is just the latest player to turn up in Madrid after impressing at the World Cup.
Real Madrid’s two acquisitions after the 2014 World Cup – James Rodríguez and Toni Kroos – provide a curious parallel with the past. One was South American and the other European; one was a highly effective midfielder and sublime passer of the ball who had won the World Cup; and the other was a young, skilful goalscoring forward with an outstanding future ahead of him.
Real Madrid had first announced themselves as voracious consumers of World Cup stars in almost identical circumstances after the World Cup in 1958. Santiago Bernabéu, the club’s president, brought in two big-name signings: the Brazilian Didi and the Swede Agne Simonsson. One was South American and the other was European; one was a creative World Cup-winning midfield playmaker and the other was a gifted young forward. And then, like in 2014, the strategy was not wholly successful.
Projecting an illusion of glamour, grandiosity and power was as important for Real Madrid in 1958 as it is today, albeit for quite different reasons. Real Madrid now devour brilliant footballers for marketing-driven sustenance, which is at least an improvement on using them to improve the image of the Franco regime.
Sustaining regular success on the pitch, whether to fit bombastic publicity campaigns or to bring legitimacy to a backward regime, needs the same raw materials of world-class footballers. In a team that already featured stars such as Alfredo Di Stéfano, Ferenc Puskás, Héctor Rial, Raymond Kopa, Paco Gento and José Santamaría, only the most gifted of newcomers could stand a chance of flourishing.
Pelé was Brazil’s breakthrough player in Sweden – and Real Madrid repeatedly tried to sign him through the years – but their captain, Didi, had masterminded the Seleção’s triumph. A long-established star for both Botafogo and Brazil, Didi bent the tempo of matches to his will. A consummate passer of the ball, he was particularly renowned for his ability from set pieces and even boasted his own trademark dipping free-kick, the folha seca.
Bernabéu pressed ahead with the deal to sign him and, following the end of the Brazilian club season, Didi arrived in Spain in early 1959 to great fanfare. New player unveilings at Real Madrid then, as now, were extravagant events and Didi was introduced to fans as “a world champion and the world’s greatest player”. The Brazilian was 26 years old and, significantly, six years younger than Di Stéfano, who he was expected to initially complement then ultimately replace.
Di Stéfano was unimpressed by the succession policy. A fiercely proud and obstinate man still playing at the peak of his considerable powers, Di Stéfano bristled at the idea he might be eased towards the exit. On Didi’s first day at the club a photographer asked the two South American midfielders to shake hands for the camera. Di Stéfano took Didi’s hand and, without the remotest flicker of a smile, said quietly: “I hear you’re my successor. Well, you’re too old and you’re not good enough.”
Kopa and Puskás had prospered in Madrid because they were willing to curb their natural tendencies and defer to the seniority of Di Stéfano but Didi struggled to adapt to Madrid’s complex team hierarchy. Didi had normally been the fulcrum of his teams, with his teammates selected based on how they dovetailed with his distinctive style, but he either did not realise he would have to adapt or just wasn’t capable of doing so.
The pace and the physicality of the Spanish game appeared problematic for him and his confidence wasn’t helped by Di Stéfano repeatedly grumbling at him for slowing Madrid’s build-up. When the Argentinian started to contemptuously take the ball off the foot of his Brazilian teammate during games, it was clear there was a major problem. This was a war that could have only one winner.
After just 19 appearances, Madrid’s management concluded Didi couldn’t flourish in a team cast in Di Stéfano’s image. The Brazilian was loaned to Valencia and started to show some of his World Cup form while playing again for a team that was happy for him to take a creative lead. Valencia seemed enthusiastic to sign Didi permanently, but Madrid would only sanction a return to Botafogo. His time in Spain lasted less than 12 months but Didi wasn’t scarred by the experience. He prospered back home and would remain a key figure for Brazil when they retained the World Cup in 1962.
Real Madrid’s second big signing from the 1958 World Cup was Agne Simonsson, a clever centre-forward who was as adept at creating goals as he was scoring them. Simonsson had caught the eye with fine form and goals all the way through to the final against Brazil but, with Didi taking the available foreigner slot, the Swede would have to wait before his Madrid move was finalised. That wait did not take as long as he might have expected.
While Didi’s career with Madrid was floundering, the 23-year-old forward’s career was going from strength to strength. The highlight of his season came at Wembley with two well taken goals and an outstanding performance for Sweden as they outclassed England. Simonsson finally joined up with Madrid early in 1960, earning a sizeable £14,000 signing-on fee with his first professional contract, but soon faced the same daunting obstacle that had reduced Didi to irrelevance. The intention had been for Simonsson to become Madrid’s main attacking focus and allow Di Stéfano to concentrate on playing a deeper role to preserve his ageing legs, but this was given short shrift by a player who remained Madrid’s best forward and best midfielder.
While not actively hostile to Simonsson, Di Stéfano still rendered him a peripheral figure by making runs into the same areas of the pitch the Swede occupied. Simonsson made just three appearances before dropping to the bench and spending the following season on loan at Real Sociedad. By 1963 he too, like Didi, was back in his homeland at his former club with only his bank account richer for the experience.
Madrid’s impulsive and ultimately ill-judged spree in 1958 cost £150,000 in transfer fees and wages, a vast sum for players who managed just 22 first-team appearances between them. Fast forward 56 years and Rodríguez, one of the purchases from the 2014 World Cup, endured a very similar Madrid career. Courtois will be hoping his time with Real Madrid is more like that of Kroos and less like Didi, Simonsson and Rodríguez.
The Guardian Sport
